


Old Habits

by CreepyGhostQueen



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BBC, BBC Sherlock - Freeform, Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, CreepyGhostQueen, Gen, John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, Mark Gatiss - Freeform, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform, old habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-10 10:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1158584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreepyGhostQueen/pseuds/CreepyGhostQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Moriarty scandal, Sherlock is faced with nonstop stress. Until his only relief is a small white pill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1

Since his call from Mycroft, Sherlock had tried desperately to find out what had happened, why James Moriarty was suddenly plastered over every screen in London. He couldn't find an explanation. He had watched him die, he had watched him place the gun to the top plate of his mouth and pull the trigger. He had watched him fall back into a pool of his own blood. Moriarty was dead! There was absolutely no doubt about it. People bombarded him constantly asking for the explanation he hadn't yet discovered. Lestrade asked more than the others, his questions were constant, asking for information, asking for advice, asking about everything. Although the pictures had vanished, and there had been no sign of Moriarty or any other villain since, people involved with Sherlock still worried. The citizens of London however blew it off, assuming it was a prank pulled by some high scale hacker, a rumor that Mycroft himself came up with to keep them at bay. 

Sherlocks mind raced through all possibilities, assessing why somebody would do that. He knew that every person trying to harm or scare had a reason, Mary had her reason, Magnessen had his, even Moriarty had reasons. But this, a new player in this seemingly never ending game, he or she, was a fan. They knew about Moriarty, they knew about Sherlocks weaknesses with Magnessen and how Sherlock would react with Moriarty back from the dead. It led way to someone new, someone who knew. Sherlock continued to search through people, people who would hate him, the list was quite long, but none of the names however on the list had reason to love or even remotely like Moriarty. 

This began to anger him. Not knowing bothered him, it had since childhood. He had kept up with Mycroft daily, working on figuring it out together. He preferred to work with John Watson, but he was with Mary, nine months pregnant and ready at any moment to have a child. Working with Mycroft however wasn't nearly as bad as Sherlock had imagined. They worked off each other, bouncing off ideas and clues. If it wasn't for their childhood grudges, Sherlock thought, they would've made a good team after all. 

The sun beat into 221B as Sherlock walked anxiously around the flat. He pressed the nicotine patches harder into his skin as he paced, running through the list of names again. Even Mary and John appeared on the list in his mind, both had strong enough reason to hate him. He brushed past them however and continued on. His phone rang loudly from the couch, causing Sherlock to stop in his tracks. He stared for a moment then picked it up. "What is it Mycroft?" He muttered, annoyed his thought process and been interrupted. 

"I found a girl" Mycroft smirked. 

"As in a girl, girl?" Sherlock questioned, assuming he was talking in terms of a relationship. 

"A client" Mycroft clarified. 

"Details?" Sherlock pried. 

"I received an email" Mycroft explained as he began to read off his computer screen. "Dear Mr. Holmes, I believe you have been waiting for information on the case of James Moriarty. Looks like I'm your girl. Contact me for farther information. Love always Cecelia." Mycroft paused. 

"Seems useless, just a fan" Sherlock sighed. "You can tell by the-"

"I'm not finished" Mycroft continued to read. "P.S if you don't come to me, I will come to you" 

Sherlock thought for a moment. "Fine, let her come to me" he hung up and threw the phone back to its spot on the couch and continued on with his list. Janine, Irene, Anderson. He was unaware of Mycroft's email back. 

Dearest Cecelia,

Sherlock has declined the offer to meet you, I suggest we meet up for dinner and I will help you get to him. He is stubborn as an ass after all, there is a nice little place on Baker Street we can eat and chat, bring your girls. The plan will work. 

Love always, M


	2. 2

Sherlock paced his flat continuously, his list growing longer and longer. Even deceased people landed a spot on the never ending list. His anger and stress was beginning to get the best of him as he kicked over a trash bin. Almost spilling the small jar he was forced to pee in day after day to prove himself sober. He knelt down on the floor with his hands over his ears. 

The pictures of Moriarty were beginning to get to him, driving him slowly insane with the lack of answers. He was becoming as anxious as the rest of them, even more anxious he thought. They after all wouldn't be over analyzing like he was. 

"Sherlock you have guests!" Mrs. Hudson hollered from below the stairs. 

"Send them up" Sherlock ordered, assuming it was John and Mary. He was shocked however when he saw three girls making their way up into his flat. The girls silently flooded in. 

"Good morning Mr. Holmes" Sherlock examined the girl who spoke. Her knees were revealed and clearly chapped and worn, heavily hinting her enjoyment for sex. 

"Cecelia?" He asked, remembering the name from Mycroft's call. 

"No" one of the other girls laughed, her presence giving off a strong sense of immorality. 

"So you are?" Sherlock confirmed. 

"No" the first one spoke again. "She is?" She pointed to the girl standing between the two. "Deduce her Mr. Holmes" the girls beckoned together. 

Sherlock examined Cecelia thoroughly. She was skinny, extremely skinny, eating disorder possibly? Her bleached and ripped skinny jeans were stuffed into her stained dull white Chuck Taylor converse. Her black shirt hung off her left shoulder, revealing a thin faded pink bra strap. Her hair was a deep chestnut brown, braided to the side in a tight fish tail with strands disbanded here and there. Her eyes were a clear blue, however they were slightly dilated and distant. Drugs. This girl was troubled, clearly. But she seemed happy. 

"We're waiting" the second girl spoke softly. 

Sherlock sat on the couch and spoke slowly. "Eating disorder, most likely anorexia by the state of your arms, heavy into drugs, but surprisingly resistant by the track marks on your arm and the lifeless eyes, your shoes are covered slightly in dry mud, obviously don't care much about looks. You are from not far, probably born in Scotland. You can't be older than eighteen. And you are here because?" 

Cecelia laughed and walked closer to Sherlock. "Hello Mr. Holmes" she smiled and spoke with a heavy American accent. 

"You're American?" He was slightly shocked. 

"New York" she slowly stepped closer to him. 

"I always miss something" he spoke aloud to himself. 

"Leave girls" Cecelia spoke as she straddled the seated Sherlock. "Do you smoke Mr. Holmes?" She asked pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a faded red lighter. 

"Not really" he lifted his sleeve, showing her his patches. Cecelia simply smiled, placing a cigarette in her mouth and breathing in as she lit it. As she French inhaled, letting the smoke leave her nose, Sherlock leaned forward, breathing in the old familiar scent. Cecelia removed the paper from her mouth and replaced it in his, pulling out a new one for herself. They smoked in silence for a moment before Sherlock spoke again. "You are here because?" He smirked, repeating the unanswered question. 

"To help you" Cecelia wrapped her arms around his neck and blew more smoke into his face, causing him to smile unbelievably large. 

"Help me how?" His voice shook as their eyes met, a sign of fear and lust. 

"Help you relax Mr. Holmes" she leaned forward until her mouth was but an inch from his. 

"Please call me Sherlock" he begged as he inhaled the smoke flowing from her mouth. 

"Sherlock" she smiled.

"How old are you?" He asked as the smoke faded from his brain and he noticed her on his lap. 

"How old do I look?" She asked in her usual soft voice. 

"Too young for me" he lifted her off his lap but she forced herself back on. 

"I am of legal age Mr. Holmes, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't" she reassured him as she dropped her cigarette into a clear tray hidden behind the table. "I thought you said you didn't smoke" she winked at him. 

"Who are you?" He asked, becoming suddenly interested.

"I am not who I seem Mr. Holmes. I am far superior for my age, I'm like you Sherlock" she leaned down and kissed him, however he did not kiss back. 

"What do you mean you are like me?" He put out his own cigarette. 

"I have gifts, same as you, I see too much onto things, and people loath me. But I found a way to end it." Her voice was beckoning, convincing, slightly evil. "I can show you how, I can make you normal, you can have friends-" he nearly cut her off but she didn't let him. "Friends who don't have reasons to hate you, everyone will love you, and you'll keep the ones you have." She added. 

Sherlocks eyes locked with hers as he longed for a life different from his own. "It's not worth it"


	3. 3

John sat beside Mary as she suffered through major contractions. Her hand gripped Johns stronger than any force he'd ever felt before. John forced a smile as he coached her along. The contractions subsided for a moment and Mary stared at John. "Call Sherlock?" She asked. "He will be the godfather after all" a smile crept onto her face. Sherlock was becoming as much of a family to her as John was. He had kept her secrets and kept her safe. He even shit a man to do so. 

"Will you be fine without me?" John asked. Worried about her being alone even for just a moment. 

Mary shuttered in pain. "For a minute" she forced a smile. "Hurry go" she laughed. 

John stepped into the hall and clicked the speed dial for Sherlock. The phone rang, and rang, until Sherlocks voice creeped over the line. "John?" 

"Mary is in labor" he chucked. "She wants you here. We're at Bart's."

"Let me get dressed." He muttered "I will be there!" 

"We'll be waiting" John laughed, excited his best friend would share this life changing moment with him. 

He hung up and made his way back in to Mary. Her contractions got stronger and John raced to her side and gave her his hand once again. Mary continued to suffer as their daughter refused to appear. John stayed beside her, putting up with her death grip, coaching her on bit by bit. Mary screamed as she gave one last push and the nurse held up a small pink baby. "Congratulations Mr and Mrs Watson, it's a boy."

"A boy?" Mary shouted, out of breath. 

"A boy?" John echoed, standing to take a look. 

"Yes, a boy." The nurse set him down on Mary's chest. 

"They said it was a girl!" Mary shouted in pain and confusion. 

Mary and John stared at their new born child. The one they had thought to be a girl. "It's William then" John spoke at last. 

"William?" Mary kept her eyes on her baby. "I like it, where'd you come up with that?" 

"Sherlock." He smiled. "He told me" 

"What did I tell you?" Sherlock voice rang through the room. 

John and Mary looked to see Sherlock standing in the doorway. 

"Sherlock!" John jumped up and ran to him, wrapping his arms tightly around him.

"It's a boy" Sherlock said, looking over his shoulder at the child wrapped on Mary's arms. "You said it was a girl" 

"Were naming him William" John smiled. 

"William Watson" Mary called for Sherlock to come closer and see him. "Any news?" She whispered as he got within ear shot. 

Sherlock simply shook his head and shrugged. "Mycroft is working on a lead." 

"Keep working." Mary kissed his cheek. "You got this." 

They crowded around the hospital room, cooing over the small boy. Little by little more people showed up, congratulating them both and staying around to chat. Sherlock sat himself into a large red chair beside the window. He watched the people come and go, and occasionally talked to them when they spoke first. He was becoming increasingly bored. He didn't understand it, he didn't understand their obsession with a wrinkly, pink, bundle of skin and bones. 

It was a useless thing, not capable of doing anything for himself. There was no need for this show of people to awe over it. A baby, just a baby, not a hero, not a soldier, just a baby. Sherlock had never been one to get along with anybody, let alone younger ones. He didn't understand them, he couldn't read them, he was left on,y with the impression of helpless, and that word made him shutter. 

He thought about Cecelia's offer of drugs from that morning. He had wanted strongly to give into to her. But he refrained, taking from her only more cigarettes to relax himself slightly. But as he thought more her words clouded his mind. I can make you normal. Sherlock had longed to be normal, since childhood. He stared at the wall, remembering the warm feeling he had encountered not too long again on his case. He reassured everyone, including himself it had been for just a case. People had been afraid once they found out, Molly, Mycroft, Mary, John.

John, John had said if he ever felt the urge to go back to talk to him. Sherlock stared at him, a large smile plastered over his face as he watched the baby in Mary's arms. John was happy, John was safe. Sherlock however was afraid. He stood up and walked slowly to John. "Can I speak to you for a moment?" 

John looked at Sherlock inquisitively. "Yeah." He nodded and led Sherlock out of the room and into the hall. "Is everything okay?"

Sherlock stared at John for a moment, remembering his immense anger from the previous time. Sure this time he was sober, but he knew Johns reaction would be similar. He watched John, the new father, a smile fading from his face as he waited for Sherlock to speak. "Congratulations John" Sherlock smiled and hugged John. Johns own smile returned. 

"Thank you Sherlock" He smiled. "Anything else?"

"Give this to Molly when you see her." He pulled out the small jar from his pocket and faked a smile as John took it. 

"You're clean then?" John asked, reassuring himself. 

"Check the sample" Sherlock nodded. 

"I'm proud of you" John hugged him again. 

"I think I'll be heading back to Backer Street" he nodded. "Drop by soon" Sherlock and John dispersed as Sherlock walked down the hall and away from the hustle of the moment. The night drifted in through the windows covering the wall. Sherlock pulled out the folded piece of paper from his coat and looked over the address. "Show me" he mumbled to himself. "Show me how to be normal"


	4. 4

Sherlock stood in front of the door to a rundown flat. It reminded him a bit of his own. His finger hovered ever so slightly over the doorbell. He fought with himself wether or not to ring it. His addiction got the best off him as he pressed down long and hard. 

He waited a moment, still debating on leaving, but the door opened slowly. "I wasn't expecting you Sherlock" Cecelia opened the door. 

"I wasn't expecting to come." He pushed past her onto the smoke filled flat. "Who else is here?"

"A few friends." She smiled. "Why'd you come?"

"It was for a case" he spoke "last time I got high was for a case!" His voice was a low growl. 

"Magnissen?" She laughed. "That wasn't for a case, that was for fun" she stood on her tip toes to whisper in his ear. "We both know that." Her hand stroked his jaw line. 

"There's nothing you can do" Sherlocks mouth twitched ever so slightly. "I've tried, trust me hon I've tried. So many drugs, so many distractions, they don't work. Sorry." He turned to leave but Cecelia's arm grabbed his wrist. 

"Trust me you haven't had this, just try it" she smiled, taking his hand and leading him up the stairs. "I told you I'd find him" she pulled Sherlock into a grey room, void of furniture with only two other people sitting on the stained dull carpet. 

One of them was a girl from earlier that day. Her face was soft and she smiled. "Good to see you again" she winked and focused on her phone. 

The other was a boy, Sherlock assumed, his hair was long but his body was built like a child, no sign of being a girl. "Three point one four one five nine two-" he too spoke with an American accent. 

"Pi?" Sherlock asked. 

"He does that" the girl smirked. 

"Harmony and Devon by the way" Cecelia clarified and pushed Sherlock into the kitchen and searched the cupboards for a bottle of pills. "Want to be better Sherlock?" She asked knowing it would trigger a response in his mind. 

Sherlock paused for a moment and looked at her, her face was caring, respectful, he closed his eyes and thought about all the reasons he was here. He opened them and slowly nodded. 

"Don't worry I'll do it too." She reassured, grabbing the bottle "Let's go sit." 

Sherlock sat beside her against the cold, bumpy wall. Every breath he took was conflicting. He could get up and leave, walk out without any struggle. With the two on the floor drugged up and Cecelia focused to getting him drugged up, it would be easy. But this, this would also be easy. To let his complicated world just fade away. It would be so easy. 

"Pill" she said, calling him back to earth. Sherlock stuck out his tongue as she set it gently on it. "Simply to calm you down a bit"

"What is it?" He asked after a forceful dry swallow. 

"Just a pill" she smiled at him. "Give you a high worse than heroin if you take enough." She handed out another pill to him. 

"You first." He nodded, noticing she herself hadn't taken any. 

"If you insist." She dumped a handful into her hand and took them all at once. "Start you off lower" she held out one more pill. "Just one"

He took it from her and swallowed it, waiting for something to happen.The girl from the floor spoke. "Glad you like it"

"I never said I-" Sherlock was cut off by his own mind, slowly fading and spinning out of control. He attempted to enter his mind palace but it didn't work, he was slipping from reality as a flood of pleasure washed over his body. He focused his eyes the best he could and stared at Harmony, trying to deduce anything from her, but he found nothing. He smiled, at last, free from his own mind. He felt lost and helpless, helpless the word had no meaning now. He turned to Cecelia who had slouched against the wall. "I love it" he sighed.


	5. 5

Greg Lestrade had left the hospital shortly after Sherlock. He was headed back to the office to work more on the case. Nothing bad had happened, not really, just the well known face of Moriarty. Still the case had spread fear throughout those in the know. He himself feared about Sherlock, even with the slightest chance of Moriarty living, it would cause Sherlock hell on earth. Magnessen was bad yes, horrible, but Moriarty had came close to killing Sherlock, more than once. And that was not something Greg could handle. 

"Excuse me" there was a slight tap on the door frame as Anderson walked into view. 

"What is it?" Lestrade asked although he really didn't care, he was focus solely on the Moriarty fiasco. 

"There's an alarming rate number of hospital patients tonight." Anderson slowly made his was farther into the room. 

"What about it?" Lestrade looked up at Anderson, clearly thinking he had gone insane, why worry about hospital numbers? Tonight was just a bad night. 

"They all claim to have taken the same, new drug" Anderson could tell Lestrade was now intrigued. "They call it the Heaven Pill." 

"Effects?" Lestrade pulled up for a search on his computer m

"It kills you, slowly shutting down every part of your body." Anderson explained what he knew. "Makes you throw up blood, dehydrates you, shuts down your brain. They all said they started on a pill called Oppa, prescription for high pain, and were offered this Heaven Pill. They claimed to have only taken it once"

"And how does this pill kill them?" He asked once his search provided nothing of any use. 

"It eats away at their brain, their heart, the drug dissolves in their system and attacks, the more drug, the weaker the body" Anderson assumed, he hadn't been completely sure. 

"Isn't that similar to all drugs?" Lestrade had his fair share of drugs throughout his life, he knew the consequences. 

"This ones different, quicker, the users say they've taken it once, and the effects were almost instant. Many were found dead and not even brought to the hospital." Anderson explained. Not revealing that his wife was one of the victims to this horrid drug. 

"Can we help them?" Lestrades soft side was slipping into view as he saw the pain in Anderson's eyes. 

"No, one dose and the drug begins,and you will die." Anderson's eyes hit the floor. 

"What about side effect?" Lestrade asked. "How do they act on it? How do they feel?"

"All depends on the person, they all said different things." Anderson sighed. "It's getting late, my wife will be worried." He wanted to be by her side if she slipped away. Him and Lestrade exchanged nods. "Good luck." He smiled then left in tears. 

Lestrade sat and thought about this new drug. He searched the hospital inputs around England but found no other abnormal spark in patients. Meaning the drug was simply being distributed here. You find the druggies, you find the drug, you find the dealer, you find the creator, you find your culprit. Although it was late, nearly three in the morning, he grabbed his mobile and called for Sherlock Holmes to help solve this case in addition to the one on Moriarty.


	6. 6

The phone rang vigorously from Sherlocks coat pocket as Devon fished for it. He held up the slick black phone and watched it ring. "Greg, Gram, Gavin, Geoff" he laughed. "Confusing name."

They let the phone ring as Sherlock stared blankly at the wall, his eyes drooped and his mind somewhere else. "Sherlock" Cecelia gently shook his leg but he didn't budge. 

"Let me try." Devon leaned close to his ear. "Three point one four one five nine two-"

"Have you guys learned nothing from Watson's blog?" Harmony interrupted.

"Watson doesn't deal with drugs." Cecelia reminded her, continuing to lightly shake him. 

"He dealt with that annoying guy" she pushed Devon aside and began to flick Sherlocks face until he came to. 

"What?" He muttered, not taking his eyes off the dull wall in front of him. 

"Do you like it Mr. Holmes?" Cecelia asked as she motioned for Harmony and Devon to back away, they did. Sherlock however, only slowly nodded in agreement. "Do you like me Mr. Holmes?" She whispered, her lips only a hair away from his ear. 

Sherlock turned to look at her as his mind focused around her looks, something he normally overlooked. Skinny, but beautiful. He thought. And wise, wise enough to find him. He couldn't think any further as his mind pushed him away. "Yes" he sighed. "Yes. Yes. Yes" he pulled her closer and she straddled him. 

Seeing her opportunity she bent down and kissed him passionately. To her surprise she received and equally passionate one back as Sherlock wrapped his arms around her waist. They sat for a moment, entangled together until the drugs properly hit Cecelia and she fell unconscious to the ground. 

Sherlock stared for a moment at the girl half on his lap half on the carpet. He sat up but fell back after an incredible head rush. "John" he said out of habit. "John!" He yelled. 

"Need help Mr. Holmes?" Harmony asked as she moved Cecelia off of him and into the middle of the floor. "Anything else?" 

"Phone." He mumbled. Devon, who had planned to steal it, handed it to him hesitantly. Sherlock stared at it and jumped as it rang again. Greg, Gram, Gavin, Geoff. Sherlock answered it without a word. 

"Sherlock?" Lestrade spoke. "Sorry to wake you"

"No it's fine." He mumbled with a crooked smile plastered on his face. 

"There's a case" Lestrade paused. "A drug case."

"A drug case!" Sherlock shouted happily and looked around the room. He quickly calmed himself. "Yea I could do that" 

"Swing by in the morning" Lestrade didn't question Sherlocks response. 

"Bye Gram" Sherlock hung up the phone and looked at the two conscious people. "How do I walk?" 

They laughed and helped him up. He supported himself against the wall as they gave home the four easy tips to pass off as sober when in reality you are high as a kite. "Eye drops" Harmony handed him a vial. "Seriously you should use them, red eyes are a dead giveaway."

"Talk as little as possible" Devon added. "Your voice can cause suspicion."

"Don't try to act too casual." Harmony spoke again. "You end up looking like a bloody fool."

"And lastly" Devon smiled. "Figure out how to stand and walk through the head rush" both him and Harmony lent him their hands as they led him around the flat. Sherlock let go, proud of himself for working. "Almost forgot, if anybody suspects anything, just say you're not feeling well" he patted Sherlock on the back.

Sherlock walked slowly back to where Cecelia lay unconscious. He curled himself into a ball and wrapped his arm around her, letting his coat cover her shivering body. He let himself drift off to sleep as the drugs still held tight to his mind.

Sherlock awoke with a pounding head ache. Beside him Cecelia was still out cold. He removed his coat and flung it over her, gently he kissed her forehead before standing. As he stood the headache become unbearable, he bent back down and forced a few pills from the bottle laying open on the floor and swallowed them. As he waited for the high to come back, he stepped over the bodies of the other two, and out into the street. He had a case to do. A case involving drugs.


	7. 7

John stood angrily in front of detective inspector Lestrade. "Sherlock Holmes on a drug case?" He shouted. 

"He's done it before" Lestrade protested.

"That wasn't a drug, it was poison!" John threw his arms to his side. "Tell him the case is solved, I don't want him anywhere near this kind of thing." John held back tears. He remembered how he felt when he had found him in that drug den and the fear that had consumed him. 

"I'll do what I can." Lestrade sighed, noticing the pain in Johns eyes. 

Sherlock stood outside the door, hesitant to go in. Did he look high? Would he act high? He took out the small vile of eye drops from his pants pocket and let a few drip into each eye. As soon as they were back in his pocket the door flung open. John collected his anger as he saw Sherlock. "Case is solved." He forced a laugh. 

"How can you solve a case without me?" Sherlock smirked, forgetting the rule of not talking. "You need me."

"Lestrade had Anderson take it last night" John lied through his teeth. 

"Anderson" Sherlock mumbled. "Probably got it all wrong, let me take a check" 

"No he got it." John nodded "I checked" he wrapped his arm around Sherlock. "Where's your coat?"

"Sherlock Holmes walking around London without his coat?" Lestrade questioned from behind them. 

Sherlock himself struggled to remember where it was but he came up with a quick lie. "It gets dirty." 

"Why don't you get going back home Sherlock, Mary and I will be by later" John patted his back and Sherlock left. 

John turned to Lestrade. Fear was consuming him as he recalled the previous drug incident "Was he acting weird to you?"

"He's always weird" Lestrade reminded him. "Now who am I going to get to solve my case, I'm not letting Anderson do this on his own"

"I'll do it" John offered. "What do I need to know?"

"You already know the just I take it, Molly is working on a cure, an antidote to it. But you need to arrest the-"

Lestrade was interrupted by Anderson's arrival. "I'm working with John?" He asked. 

"So it seems. Any news?" Lestrade opened up his laptop to type. 

"Half of London are in the hospital for this drug, half of those don't even remember taking it." Anderson sat on the cold black leather chair in front of Lestrade's desk. "Half if them are dead" 

"Half of London?" John sat beside Anderson. "Whose doing it?"

"We don't know." Anderson sighed. "That's why we needed Sherlock"

"Well you'll have to settle with me." John folded his arms. 

"After that last fiasco I understand." Anderson nodded. "Go home, be with your family, I'll call you if we find anything" 

John got up and left. As he walked through the streets he noticed people, he noticed the way they held themselves, and the way some seemed to walk like zombies. They all seemed happy however. Drugged? He thought. His mind caught Sherlock, walking down the street, zombified like the rest. John did a double take only to see just a typical London male not Sherlock. Sherlock was clean, although it fought with his better judgement he trusted him this time.


	8. 8

While Sherlock was gone, Cecelia invited over the other Holmes brother. They stood together, Mycroft in a dull grey suit and Cecelia wrapped in Sherlocks coat. They both stood across form each other in the empty dark flat. Mycroft didn't belong here and they both knew it. Sherlock could be back any minute and Mycroft would be revealed as the bad guy. 

"What do you want now?" Cecelia asked, her hands fiddling around in the pockets of Sherlocks coat. 

"Keep him out of trouble" Mycroft ordered. "Keep him on the pills I don't care, just keep him away from London." Mycroft sighed. "Until I get a way to get me out of this Moriarty case." Mycroft's eyes scanned the flat, searching for any sign of Sherlock, he found only the coat. 

Mycroft knew this wasn't the best idea. Hiring a drug dealer to distract his brother, but it would be worth it, in time. He hated seeing his brother high, but seeing him in pain was worse. This would only last a bit longer anyway, he'd find a fake solution to his problem and he would be free from guilt. Sherlock could never know it was him who was beind the countless worries, the countless questions, the whole Moriarty scandal. 

"Nobody would suspect that this villain is you Mycroft" Cecelia walked closer to him. "Not even sherlock could solve this case." Her voice slowly became seductive. 

"No" Mycroft growled, resisting her temptation. "I need him safe, the fall of him would be the fall of me" 

The fall of him would be the fall of me the words flooded Cecelia's brain. "You have my word Mr. Holmes." Cecelia focused back on him and embraced Mycroft in a quick hug. "You may want to go to his flat though" Mycroft looked around. "This place isn't the best"

"I will" Cecelia bowed slightly. 

Mycroft thought of his brother, lying on this floor, his head spinning, looking like crap. He shook off the thought. Only a little bit longer, he reminded himself. Only a few more days and he would have this fixed, he'd have his little brother back under the impression of a hated relationship. Mycroft would do whatever he could to protect his little brother. Even if that meant he got his brother hooked back on drugs for a short time. 

Mycroft had told himself if Sherlock got addicted he himself would pay for rehabilitation. He would fix the reputation, he would have all the weight put on him. Only a few more days until this would all be over. He handed Cecelia the money he had promised. "And whatever you do" Mycroft's eyes shot hellfire. "Do not let Sherlock catch on"


	9. 9

Cecelia had spent the morning convincing Sherlock to bring her back to his flat, which had been harder than expected, but after hours of coaxing he finally gave in. They arrived at 221b shortly after noon. Cecelia run up the stairs and threw herself onto the couch, Sherlock followed slowly behind, his head pounding as his mind palace slowly rebuilt itself as he sat sober. "Still have those pills?" Sherlock asked, wanting the headache to fade. 

"Left them at my flat" Cecelia shrugged and apologized. 

Sherlock shrugged back, digging deep into his chair, gently massaging his temples to lessen his splintering headache. Cecelia grinned as she removed Sherlocks coat, wrapping it back around his shoulders. She kissed the back of his head. "Mind if I go rest?" she asked. 

Sherlock pointed down the hall to his room. "Night" he shouted as she stumbled off. Sherlock stood up and put on his coat which now reeked of cigarette smoke. He buried his head in it, letting the scent consume. A rattling came from his pocket. Sherlock dug in and pulled out a bright orange bottle filled with tiny white pills. They were different from the ones he had been taking. Sherlock worked at prying off the top, his hands shaking as he did so. 

He examined the pill in his hand. It was tiny, extremely tiny. There was no engraving in it as he had seen on the others. "Don't you dare!" He heard Johns voice echo around the flat. Sherlock turned to the source only to find his familiar belongings. He brushed it off and opened his mouth. "Sherlock!" Again he was shocked by Johns voice. He stuck his tongue out, ignoring the shouting of his inner John. He set the pill on his tongue and felt it begin to fizz. He swallowed it quick and felt the hit instantly. 

His mind palace shattered to pieces as he fell limp in his chair, his mind brushed back and forth in waves, crashing all over his body. His vision spun and a smile sprung up on his face. He watched the world slip away as he heard his friends yelling at him. You don't have friends. He reminded himself. They hate you, they despise you, they would be fine without you. You are dying. He thought about the chance of death an welcomed it. 

He sunk deeper in his chair as he heard light foot steps walking toward him. His vision didn't focus however until the figure was right in front of him. It was Cecelia and her smile was wide and bright. "I knew you'd take it" she smiled. Sherlocks mind struggled to succumb to reality. "Yes Mr. Holmes I warned you I was smart." She restrained him from getting up. "Don't move, just let me speak." She laughed. Sherlocks eyes watched her blankly. "I tricked your brother, into thinking I could keep you safe, he pulled a little Moriarty trick and brought you back from the possible suicide mission. I remained close to him, letting him get the case resolved while I distracted you any means possible, including making you a simple druggie."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock mumbled, not fully understanding her rant. 

"You're dying now Mr. Holmes" Cecelia laughed. "Mycroft just wanted you out of the way for a bit, well you're out of the way now, and so is over half of London thanks to me. I'm picking them off one by one, the ones I like, will leave with euphoric pleasure, the ones I don't like, will die." She sat on his lap. "I thought I'd like you Sherlock, until I met you, I liked your brother after all. However I'm smart Mr. Holmes, and I can read people too. And you, I read you wrong at first, now I know. You don't care about the cases you solve, you don't care about the lives of those, the ones wanting to be known. It's nothing really, just I don't think you care."

"Caring is a dis-" he began to speak but his mind drifted off.

"Since you're dying anyway, might as well speed up the process." She opened the bottle and handed the pills to him "Eat up Mr. Holmes"

Sherlocks mind finally adjusted as he realized this girl was killing him, she had already killed him. He smirked at her. "Go ahead and kill me" he opened his mouth wide. "I've wanted to die for years anyway" You are dying. He reminded himself again as he watched Cecelia's smile grow. "Let me die"

Cecelia let the pills fall one by one down his throat. His eyes fogged over in an icy glaze as he let himself drift off to sleep, possibly death. Cecelia left his flat, leaving the bottle in his hands. The flat was empty besides Sherlock. Her smile was wide as she walked onto the London street without a second glance.


	10. 10

John and Anderson raced around London, asking everybody what they knew about drugs. They bickered as they went, focusing more on each other than on the case. 

Anderson's idea was to stumble around like junkies, Johns was to act like authority. Neither resulted in good findings. No matter how they approached the questions the majority of the people thought they were crazy.

The case went on for hours with no luck, they had found only a few distributors of marijuana nothing worse. 

"How's the baby?" Anderson asked, for in conversation. 

"He's fine" John mumbled, stressed from the case. 

"And Mary?" They walked down the streets of London,making a break from the case.   
"Also fine" John was becoming annoyed by Anderson talking, he now understood Sherlocks problem with him. They continued on with the case, questioning people who looked high or suspicious. 

They ran into Cecelia as Anderson stopped her. "Excuse me" he asked. 

"Can I help you?" She forced a polite voice. 

"You seem awfully happy" John pointed out. 

"Is that against the law?" Her voice didn't shake nor did her eyes give her away. 

"Mind if we check you for any drugs?" Anderson asked politely. 

"Go ahead" she held out her arms as the boys patted her down. Pulling out only a scratched white phone and a pack of cigarettes with a lighter. 

"Sorry, have a good day" John sighed disappointed he hadn't found anything. 

One girl however they found was high off her ass, they had found tiny unlabeled white pills in her pocket, after carrying her to Bart's, and giving the pills to Molly they questioned her. She explained how she had been buying the heaven pill from multiple younger girls around London. 

The girl stared up at Anderson. "Last I saw one, she was leaving Baker Street" she cried as blood choked out of her mouth. Anderson knelt beside her, he had watched his wife go through the same thing shortly before her death. He held his hand out to comfort the girl as she took it, expelling the blood from her lungs into a silver trash can. 

"Baker Street?" John shouted, finally processing what she had said. "Did you say Baker Street?" Fear consumed him as the girl slowly nodded. "Sherlock!" He pushed past Anderson and ran down the hall. "Molly hurry!" He screamed as he passed her. "Sherlocks in trouble" 

Anderson stood dumbfound in the hospital room. This drug had killed hundreds of people including his wife and was still killing. And the culprit was last seen leaving the street of Sherlock Holmes. Meaning one of two things, Sherlock was the culprit, or Sherlock was dying. Anderson chose to believe the later. "Get an ambulance to 221B now!" He shouted. He had lost his hero once, he wouldn't bare to lose him again.


	11. 11

When John arrived at 221b the door was locked. He kicked it until the hinges gave in. John raced upstairs in time to watch Sherlock crawl on the floor, blood gushing from his mouth as he made a chocking sound. "Sherlock!" He shouted, flinging himself onto the floor with him. He wrapped his arm around him, pulling him up to help his breathing. Sherlock looked at John in fear. 

John kept his face stubborn. "It will be alright" he assured him, although he didn't believe it. John found the empty bottle on the floor and he knew Sherlock had taken them on his own accord. But worry hit John worse than anger as all he could do was hold him and watch him suffer. John had dealt with countless medical cases, but as he watched his best friend suffer he lost his mind. He knew he couldn't help him, he couldn't do anything but comfort him. 

June heart raced as liter after liter left Sherlocks mouth and stained the floors of the flat. He hopped help would be here soon. Johns memory sped through thoughts of Sherlock, all the cases they had solved together, all the ways Sherlock had taught him, and even saved his life. 

Before Sherlock, John had thought constantly about putting a bullet through his own head. And after his alleged death he had received those thoughts again. But it was because if Sherlock he never acted on them. No matter how bad the urge was. 

Sherlock remained conscious as John held him, his mind however as fading quickly, his body began to shut itself down bit by bit. Sherlock watched as John fought back tears. He wanted to speak, he had so much to say, Sherlock opened his blood stained mouth. "John" he whispered.

"I'm here Sherlock" John let a single tear fall from his eye. "I'm here"

Sherlock was silent as his mind continued to wash back and forth, mixing all his thoughts together. He struggled to get the words he wanted to come to his lips. "John" Sherlock finally spoke although his voice was weak. "I love you"

"Jesus Christ I love you too Sherlock!" John fell into a pit of tears as he held Sherlock until he passed out in his arms. "I always have" He handed the limp Sherlock off to the oncoming paramedic, as his tears refused to dry.


	12. 12

Sherlock was rushed to the hospital, he was barely breathing and his consciousness was lost. Immediately he was hooked to machines to keep him alive as long as possible while Molly worked on finishing the antidote. Sherlocks unconscious body was surrounded by people. His friends. John, Mary and William. Lestrade, Anderson, and Sally. Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft. Anderson had called them all to join around him in his dying moments. His breathing was shallow even helped along by machines. Tears were shed by every visitor as they watched his chest rise and fall at an unsteady rate. 

John couldn't control himself as he burst into tears, Mary held him and William as she here self fought back crying. Sherlock was like family to both of them, he would always be their protector, in life, or death. Life without him would be hell on them both. 

Lestrade remembered the first time him and Sherlock had met. It wasn't on a case, or around a murder scene, it had been at a news stand. They were both younger, and Sherlock had brought up the fact Lestrade was troubled and offered to help. A sign of kindness he rarely showed again but remained in Lestrades brain. 

Anderson and Sherlock had met on a case, and immediately they disagreed. Before him Anderson had been the best, but once Lestrade brought in Sherlock he was bumped down. Anderson would never admit his hate was out of jealousy, nor would be admit to adoring Sherlock. 

Sally too secretively looked up to him. Wanting to know how he did it, how he solved the cases with clues undiscovered by anyone else. She loved Sherlock but knew he would never love her back, and unlike Molly she could hide it. 

Mrs. Hudson cried, she new Sherlock was dying, she knew she would soon be living alone. Sherlock and John had been like sons to her. Watching Sherlocks body struggle for life was like a knife stabbing in her chest. 

Mycroft watched his brothers chest limply rise and fall. It was his fault Sherlock was dead, he had gotten him into drugs again simply to save himself. It was because of him Sherlock was now dying. His little brother he had tried so dearly to protect was now falling victim to death because of his stupid idea. Mycroft had never cried in his life until this moment. The tears began and refused to stop. 

Molly rushed in. "Excuse me" she muttered, tears in her eyes. She held a syringe. "I'm not quite sure if it will work" 

"It's all we've got" Lestrade reminded her. 

Molly stood behind Sherlock, watching his body twitch. She loved Sherlock, she deeply loved him, more than herself. She couldn't bare to see him suffer the pain of death. But she couldn't bare to be the one to kill him if her concoction failed. She slid the needle into the crook of his elbow and shot it in. 

The room was silent as they all waited for something, anything. Nothing happened for minutes on end. Tears fell harder as they came to the realization that Sherlock was dead. The heart monitor however began to make steady improvements. "Molly you did it!" Anderson shouted, flinging himself onto her. 

"Not yet, he's still out cold." She reminded him, pushing him off. 

Sherlock groaned as he moved slightly in the hospital bed. Barely awake and still barely breathing but finally conscious, and definitely living. 

"Sherlock!" 

"He's awake"

"Sherlock!"

"Brother!"

"Sherlock?"

"Give him space!" John ordered pushing the rest of them back as he knelt beside the bed. "Sherlock?" Sherlock groaned again and opened his eyes. Staring at John, then surveying the room. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" Sherlock pushed himself up and met the eyes of everybody in the room one by one. "Sherlock?" 

Sherlock eyes met with Johns. His mouth opened slightly. "Who?"


End file.
